


I am a King

by Leebersnowy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Kings & Queens, The King in The North
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-07 16:49:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12236835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leebersnowy/pseuds/Leebersnowy
Summary: Growing tension between the Dragon and the Wolf. Daenerys nearly gives in....Jon Snow is destined to be Dany's equal, and finally declares that he is King. He just didn't realize that leaving her side would hurt so much.





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

Daenerys was limp and weary by the time she wandered down from the turrets, Drogons favorite place to land. They’d flown so far this time, she’d not been home for a whole night and day. And all that time she couldn’t stop seeing the things she’d done. All those things that had first believed she must do, and all the things she might have stopped herself from doing. Each thing played out in the mind over and over again as they flew over endless rocks and fields. Returning to Dragonstone this time, she felt for the first time like it was home. She was met first by the kindly Ser Davos, who immediately offered his cloak. She accepted gratefully, as her fingers and arms felt numb and stiff. He excused himself quietly and hurried off to let the castle know the dragon queen had returned.

Everyone seemed to be either afraid of her or afraid for her. She answered questions and concerns for her safety as best she could. Trying to maintain a steady, calm demeanor was draining her to nothing, but none would have suspected her weakness, not even her scribe. I had to burn them, she told herself again and again, I gave them a choice.  But tears still prickled at the corner of her eyes when she thought of them, the younger especially. They were just the sort of knights she’d dream of as a girl in Braavos, ready to die for the house they swore to. And she was the one who did it. Dragon-blood. Stormborn. Madness. She shook her head to clear the doubt, and knew it was important to cry, should she feel like it, in her bed tonight. Tomorrow she had to go right back to being strong.

On the stairs she was joined by Missandei, ever respectful and two paces behind. In the hall, Ser Jorah bowed silently until she passed and then trailed along behind them. Tyrion hovered always nearby, concern etched on his face, but she could hardly look at him let alone speak. He’d been right all along. She was nearly at her chambers when from out another hall, the king Jon Snow strode briskly and then halted all at once when he saw her. He appeared to bolster courage, before he spoke.

“You might have said where you were going. Before just vanishing.”

“Shall I be telling you where I am going now, Jon Snow.” she teased, but her weariness was catching up and she felt her knees slightly buckle, and then catch.

“You’re unwell.” Jon Snow moved to take her arm, but Ser Jorah was there first.

“Khaleesi.”

“It’s alright Ser Jorah,” Dany smiled tenderly, “I’m tired from flying. That is all.”

‘Please, you must rest.” he spoke close to her ear.

She pulled free, and then patted his arm. “I am well enough to speak to an ally and friend in confidence.”

Jon was glowering hard at the man, but Ser Jorah was oblivious of it, concerned only for her well being. When Missandei opened Danys door, he bowed low and kissed her hand, ignored Jon Snows impatient snort, and left her for the night. Her little scribe gave half a smile and closed the chamber door so that in the hall there was only Daenerys and Jon Snow alone. She waited diplomatically for him to begin, and she was certain he was looking at her, but she chose to study the carpet on the hall floor.

“Daenerys,” he started then shook his head and stopped himself.

Her name, spoken for the first time from his lips hung out in the air and she felt rather stripped by it. Silence filled the space until she shrugged out of her cloak, and said, “Would you give this to Ser Davos, he was so kind-”

“Your grace.” he broke in firmly, “Now is not the time to fly off and scare people into thinking you are dead.”

Dany raised her eyebrows, “Is that what happened.”

“Yes.” he admitted readily, then. “No! Maybe, for a few of us.” He shook his head, “Where were you?”

For a moment she allowed herself to look in his eyes. I keep forgetting how dark they are, she took in a long breath, how young his face, even with his beard and grave looking scar down his eye. What would he have to say about the men she’d burned, how they screamed, would he still seem so protective? With the way he stares at me just now, I believe I could burn the world down around him and he wouldn’t care. She swallowed roughly.

“I was trying to reconcile myself with past sins, Jon Snow. If you must know.” she held Ser Davos cloak in front of her with both hands, like a barrier. “Guilt is... a crippling emotion for a ruler. A weakness that will tare you down, if left unchecked. I cannot look back... But their faces remain. Ones who’ve died for me, ones who I’ve made die. Ones who died simply because I was coming to their city.”

Like the little girls who died by the hundreds as a warning to me, Tears prickled at her eyes. All the nights I can’t sleep, and wander around in the dark.  Dany turned her face slightly away from him. Alone, even with a lover beside me.

“But with Drogon,” she steadied her voice, “It’s as though he doesn’t know whats inside my head, but whats inside my heart. There is no judgment from my children, only trust. And when we fly, we soar. So high above this world, that it vanishes. This cursed rock, the sea, Westeros. Above the clouds...” Dany grew wistful, “the air is so strange you can hardly breath, the stars are so close and everything falls away. Even the faces...for a while at least-”

She knew she was rambling, but what made her stop was Jon Snows face. It may have been the small tilt of his head, the empathetic warmth in his eyes or the way his young brow formed the saddest expression she’d ever seen, but she knew it was working against her. As always, his gaze moved between her lips and her eyes, but by the way he fidgeted, clenching his hands nervously, she knew if she waited long enough he would kiss her. Her fear was that she was losing the motivation to stop him, because the gods knew her blood was rushing.

“Forgive me, I must sound like a fool.” She stuffed the heavy cloak at him, in a move to separate. “I’m just so tired-”

“Have you told Tyrion any of this, or Varys?” he spoke at last.

Shaking her head, she found herself saying, “I’ve never wanted to look unsure in front of them, even Tyrion. He may advise me, but in the end it is I who must make the decisions. The good and the bad.”

Jon took a very deep breath, and nodded. Still his eyes were soft, and did not stop searching her face.

“I fear I will have to retire before dinner, my lord.” Dany broke the silence again, but he snagged her wrist first before she could flee.

“Wait, girl.” he whispered, and he stepped in nearer than Ser Jorah had ever dared to come. “We each of us have our own faces to forget. You are not alone in that. You are never alone”

Maybe it was how gently his fingers wrapped around her, and yet still held firm, but she found herself captured by more then just the heat of his grip. She could feel it burning through the fabric of her dress, and in the deep, wood fire smell of him. You are never alone. The thought of what the king in the north would do to her if she pulled him into her room, made her so heavy with desire, that her eyes closed. She was fully aware, when he slowly worked his thumb into her palm, of how her fingers involuntarily curled around it.

But you are technically my enemy. Dany’s eyes flew open and she looked on him as objectively as she could. No matter how deeply I may feel drawn to you. No matter how easy it may be to let whatever this force is take me with it. I am not yours, and you are not mine. She pulled her hand away and took a small, painful step back.

He nodded. As though he’d read her thoughts, and she caught just the tiniest flash of pain in his face before he bowed his head and walked away from her. She shut her eyes and leaned her head back against her door. It was not what she intended, to harm him, but it did help her to fly off and understand things as a whole again. If she hadn’t she would never have been able to resist the man. And she must resist him, or her head would be filled with something other than the plan. But then, why does it feel like I’m split in half...

 


	2. I am a King Chapter 2

He lowered the paper slowly. “I thought Arya was dead. I thought Bran was dead.”  
“I’m happy for you,” said the Queen.   
Jon felt lost. Of all the time he’d spent mining the cave on Dragonstone, the last few weeks had been the most distracting. So rarely had he thought of home, or his poor half-sister ruling in his stead that he felt shamed now, seeing her scrawled words on the ravens scroll. It was hard to look at them and the warning they gave knowing he was so far away and relatively safe.   
“You don’t look happy.” Daenerys was watching him but he couldn’t bring himself to look her way just yet.   
“Bran saw the Night King and his army marching towards Eastwatch,” he told her, “If they make it past the wall-” he tossed the note aside.  
Varys cut in quickly, “But the wall has kept them out for thousands of years, presumably-”  
“I need to go home.” Jon interrupted, his voice tired.  
Daenerys pushed back, “You said you don’t have enough men.”  
“We’ll fight with the men we have, unless you’ll join us?” he flung the same question back to her once more.  
“And give the country to Cersei,” she flung back the same answer, “As soon as I march away, she marches in.”  
Jon struggled with the argument that had been plaguing them for months. The barrier between them, invisible but too strong to break. But the thought of her army moving for the North made his head reel. If he were honest with himself, the only way going back to Winterfell without being a failure, would be to bring the Dragon Queen with him. And it was beginning to seem like an impossible dream.  
“Perhaps not.” Tyrion finally spoke. “Cersei thinks the army of the dead is nothing but a story, made up by wet-nurses to frighten children. What if we prove her wrong?”  
Jon imagined walking into the other queens court, trying to explain himself. He laughed dryly. “I don’t think she’ll come see the dead at my invitation.”  
Tyrion turned and approached him in earnest. “So bring the dead to her.”  
Jon squinted at him and the Queen said, “I thought that was what we were trying to avoid.”   
“We don’t have to bring the whole army, only one soldier.”  
“Is that possible?” Ser Davos asked of Jon.  
Jon considered it. “The first wight I ever saw was brought into Castle Black from beyond the wall.”  
Tyrion seemed ignited. “Bring one of these things down to Kings Landing and show her the truth.”  
Jon felt the spark of action stirring in his blood.  
“Anything you bring back will be useless unless Cersei grants us an audience, and is somehow convinced not to murder us the moment we set foot in the capital.” Varys said, and as he spoke Jon watched them all be thrown by his words.  
“The only person she listens to is Jaime,” Tyrion spoke again. “he might listen to me.”  
The Hand looked to his queen who was not yet convinced. “And how would you get into Kings Landing?” she asked.  
Tyrion turned slowly to Ser Davos. Jon did as well. A noted smuggler would be perfect in a situation like this. But Ser Davos did not look thrilled. “I can smuggle ye in, but if the gold cloaks were te recognize ye, I’m warning ye, I’m not a fighter.”  
Tyrion nodded, and looked as though he couldn’t believe what he’d just done.  
“Well it will all be for nothing if we don’t have one of these dead men.” Daenerys pointed out.  
“A fair point.” said Varys, and glanced at Jon. “How do you propose to find one?”  
Jon’s mind raced. An audience, in Kings Landing, and a chance for the world to know the truth. For Daenerys to know it, finally. But how far from Eastwatch was the army, and how could they hope to get just one. He studied the map table. The North was far more vast than this piece of furniture allowed.  
“With the Queens permission, I’ ll go North and take one.” said a voice Jon was not used to hearing. Daenerys turned to the gruff knight, Jorah Mormont, looking panicked at his words. “You asked me to find a cure so I could serve you, allow me to serve you.” Jorah said softly.  
Dany watched the knight with such a mixture of fear and admiration in her face, that it awoke something fierce in Jon’s chest. He’d seen the way she greeted the man, up on the cliff, like she was never so happy to see a person. She’d touched him, embraced him.   
“The free folk will help us,” Jon announced, in an effort to pull her attention away. “They know the North better than anyone.”  
Ser Davos scoffed, “They won’t follow Ser Jorah.”  
“They won’t have to.” Jon answered readily.  
It had worked. At last the young queen noticed him again. But Daenerys face fell in such dismay that pretty soon Jon couldn’t look at it anymore. He had not considered that she was losing something, only to do at least as much as Ser Jorah intended. How could he just let everyone go off and do something, while he did nothing?  
“You can’t lead a raid,” Ser Davos told him, “You aren’t in the Nights Watch anymore, you’re King in the North!”  
Jon turned to his Hand, “I’m the only one here who’s fought them. I’m the only one here who knows them.”  
Suddenly the Queen found her voice, though it was rather shaky. “I haven’t given you permission to leave.”  
Jon heard it, and knew the time to address the invisible wall between them, had come.  
“With respect, your Grace. I don’t need your permission. I am a king.” Her eyes grew ever so slightly, but he pressed on, “I came here, knowing you could have your men behead me or your dragons burn me alive. I put my trust in you. A stranger. Because I knew it was the best chance for my people, for all our people. Now I’m asking you to trust in a stranger.” She sat very still watching him, breathing shakily. “Because it’s our best chance.”  
It must have been difficult for her, Jon imagined, losing her council one by one, and when she glanced over at Tyrion, the Lannister seemed to say, Trust him. At last, she turned back to Jon and nodded once, by way of release. Then abruptly she pushed back out of her chair and strode to the balcony, and this was her way of dismissing the council meeting. There was a rush of action, as each person suddenly had a task to perform, but Jon was reluctant to leave the young queen, despite how indifferently she turned her back on them.   
“We will return, Your Grace.” he said.  
She didn’t turn around. “Will you.” she said with no emotion. It was not a question, and it’s tone made him aware of how very alone she was, looking out over the sea. For the first time he considered she might have been keeping him there because she wanted to, and not for political reasons. But there was a job to do, and Jon felt alive with sudden purpose. And then, Jorah Mormont, the gruff old knight was near the doorway, ready to comfort the queen, and that realization made Jon stride out of the council chamber at once.  
“I don’t think I’ll ever understand Queens.” Jon mentioned to Davos, as he walked down with him to the shore.   
Davos laughed, “Women more like, Yer Grace.”  
“Some women are easier to know then others.”  
“Aye, but do you really know them, or are they just wantin ye to know them?”   
Jon grimaced. That was already too complicated to think about. “She wants action, she wants to fight, but she doesn’t want anyone else to at the same time.” he complained, in a low tone in case some of those Dothraki brutes were around.  
Ser Davos glanced at Jon. “Beggin your pardon, but ye can be rather daft, ye know.”  
Jon stopped in the path, “Tell me what I am missing then.”  
“Well now.” Davos smiled, as though very pleased to. “Just because she’s a queen does not mean she don’t have all the same feelings a young girl has. An a boy her age comes waltzin in, spends the better part of three months romancin her, and then sets off again at the first mention of a fight!”  
Jon shook his head, amused. “Romancing? Who’s romancing?”  
“You great oaf.”  
“Really Davos,” Jon began to walk again, to escape the discomfort of what Davos said, “The queen has no feelings for me. How could she? I’m a bastard rebel from the North.”   
“A King,” Davos pressed, “Her age. Unmarried, and attractive, or so I’ve heard said.”  
Jon walked on, but troubled.  
“Who else is she to match with, huh?” Davos carried on, following Jon down the steps. “The brother of Cersei, the Kingslayer? Someone from Dorne? The old knight Jorah-’  
“She never once indicated that she was looking for a King to marry, Davos.” Jon said quickly. “Only to bend the knee to her.”  
“And with what you know of her by now, do you think it likely she would throw away such an alliance. One that was months in the making?”  
Jon stopped along the path, and glanced up at the castle. Maybe she was still up there, staring down. He wasn’t sure, but if the last time he saw her face had already passed, then he had to admit to himself, that he burned with regret. He wasn’t ready to embrace everything Davos was saying to him, because suppose it wasn’t true. But then, her face... her eyes were so sad, Jon tried to shake away the image, in vain. I will never forget her face as long as I live, and with where I am about to go, that may not be very long.  
“I go now, to the city of my birth.” Ser Davos said. “But while I’m gone ye might let yer mind think on these things eh? Before we go off in a boat to the Northern wastes.”  
“No amount of thinking will change the fact that we need a wight if we’re to convince anyone.”  
Davis scowled, and near to the little boat now, he nodded at Jon. “Farewell then. Gods know why you are so eager to leave this lovely place.”  
Jon smiled, “Be safe Ser Davos.” He walked back to the cave with many things in his mind, and some guilt weighing on his heart, but mostly with excitement to not be waiting for something to happen anymore.


	3. Eastwatch to Kings Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany has waited for someone to wake up from near death before, and when Jon finally does he makes declaration she might not be ready for.

It was hot in the ships cabin, the first time in days Dany had felt her fingers, but she hardly noticed. Jon was laying in a half state, as though he might never wake again, and there was a familiarity in the air all around. She remembered this feeling well, and it dragged her soul so far down she was almost sickened. Drogo lay, just the same, looking so much like this young hero, and he never woke again. Not properly. And I tried so hard...  
Dany tried to push or pull the thoughts away but they hung around her, and punished her every time Jon Snow took a ragged, chesty breath. Once, Missandei came to insist she go to sleep, and once Ser Davos came offering to relieve her of her watch, but Dany turned both away. Late into the night she lost all her consciousness, and woke hours later curled up like a cat at the foot of his bed. Still he did not wake. He looked so beautiful, and so terrifyingly close to death, with the moonlight on his face. The scars that were carved into his chest were so much more than those she’d seen take down larger men. Perhaps that was why she hoped.  
In the latest, darkest hour she cried and cried, wishing she could comfort her own dragons above. They circled around the ship as though she might be able to produce Viserion, but every time her mind went to that golden thing, the counterpart to Rhaegal, it was fractured. It was like that part of her had broken. Worrying for Jon when her child was dead, was like worrying for Drogo, when her baby had gone. It distracted from the awful truth she just couldn’t face yet. For the rest of the night she paced, lost more tears, and watch Jon anxiously.   
With the dawn, there seemed to be a change. One of the craftier healers from Dragonstone said he carried no fever, and was rather astounded by it. “The man seems but sleeping! He should be dead...”  
Again, Dany’s breathing shook, he had cheated death as much as I...  
But she sat down by Jons side with so much relief that she simply had to take his hand. It was only then that his eyes began to move, and his breathing stirred. She dropped it at once, and waited, feeling some heat in her cheeks rise. His eyes opened, so confused at first, searching the room for some familiarity. It was her cabin, so some reaction was expected. Dany couldn’t speak, but only stare at him, unable to fully believe he was waking. Waking... she realized, it was all I wanted for Drogo.  
“I’m sorry,” he found his voice, and she was never more glad to hear it, “I’m so sorry.” She shook her head, and went to answer but found herself on the verge of tears instead. He took her hand, and held it softly. Gods how it burns to touch him... “I wish I could take it all back.” he said, not seeming to feel it. “I wish we would never have gone.”  
Dany pulled her hand away, because it was terribly distracting, and said, “I don’t. You have to see it to know...and now I know.” His expression and his eyes were crushing her, but she continued, “The dragons are my children. They are the only children I’ll ever have,” she paused and felt the tears spill out of her eyes. But she pressed herself more, because it needed stressing, “Do you understand?”  
Jon Snow nodded, but with the way his eyes traveled up her body she didn’t believe he truly wanted to understand. But that was another sadness, another pain she would have to deal with later. Now there was the pain of Viserion, and the matter of avenging him.  
“We are going to destroy the Night King and his army,” she promised Jon, choosing to connect pointedly, eyes upon eyes. “And we’ll do it together. You have my word.”  
“Thank you, Dany,” he sighed in relief.  
She felt strange upon hearing such a familiar title pass his lips, not bad, but the sound made her flush a little. “Dany?” she repeated. “Who was the last person who called me that... was it my brother? Hmm,” she mused, but of course, those memories were of pain, and fear. “Not the company you’d want to keep.” Jon was watching her face sharply.  
“Alright.” he said with a frown, “Not Dany.... How about my Queen?”  
She stared.cSeconds passed before what he’d said truly sank into her. He wouldn’t... If she’d decided only one thing about Jon Snow by now, it was that he meant what he said, almost to a fault.   
“I’d uh, bend the knee, but-”   
Quickly she asked, “But what about those who swore allegiance to you?”   
“They’ll soon come to see you for who you are.” his voice was low, and she instantly thought. HE sees me for who I am.  
The flood of feeling she suddenly felt wasn’t about the supporters, in fact that part of it was surprisingly not important anymore to her. What struck her, was that this man whom she had grown to respect so much, seemed to respect her as well. She’d told him she would fight with him, and when he no longer had to bend to her, he did. Daenerys took his hand warmly, and said, “I hope I deserve it.”  
Jon, smiling quietly, lifted his eyes slowly to her face. “You do.”  
She feared she might cry again, in front of him, and she had cried enough the night before. But when she tried to draw her hand back Jon held her fingers. It wasn’t an overbearing capture, nor was it light and teasing. It was meant to communicate something to her, and when she finally made herself meet his eyes, she knew exactly what he was trying to say. It was entirely clear, and she could feel things inside of her being drawn out, responding to him. So Dany pulled her hand away, before it was too late.  
“You should get some rest,” she said to him, but in actuality she was saying it to herself. Rest, think, reflect, and do not fall in love with him.  
Jon nodded, swallowed, and rather awkwardly closed his eyes. Dany breathed hard, somehow she couldn’t gain the air. Perhaps because Jon Snow was alive, awake, and now sworn to her. Such sudden loyalty was intoxicating, but then he spoke his true feelings for her- without words, and yet so thoroughly. She whirled up out of the chair, allowed herself another glance at him, and left the room at once.   
Outside the door, Missandei waited and looked awash with relief when she saw Dany. “My queen. Please, you must eat and rest. This room here.”  
Daenerys did as the scribe suggested, but each morsel of food stuck inside her and she sat down on the beds edge, her mind trying to fight the image of Jon Snow. But if she tried to think of something else, Viserion, swirling in the sky entered her brain, and she was slammed with a wall of pain. Crippled with it, in fact. For just a moment, she grasped her stomach and crumpled. Grief was the worst of her emotions, always there below the surface. Being who she was had been an anchor in the ocean of it, and if she ever let go, she knew she would drown. It might be her death...   
Daenerys sat up, and rubbed her tears away. “No.” she said out loud and jumped to her feet. Taring open on of the chests she found a heavy leather cloak, like that of a thief , with a hood. She considered it good enough to keep her from being too wind blown, and she struggled it on over her heavy wool and fur dress, and did up all the straps and buckles.   
The passage outside of her door was empty, mercifully, and she stole through it. Peeking into Jon’s room once more, she found him to be resting, restlessly, and then she slipped up the stairs, before he could see her. Up on deck she kept to the places she knew there would be no crew, and with the hood over her hair, no one noticed her. Until that is, she reached the stern and found a massive man looking out at the trail of disturbed sea behind them.  
“Pardon,” she said when they met eyes. He was one of the few she’d saved beyond the Wall. This one had half of a rouges face, and half a burned one.  
“I’m sorry about yer dragon.” he said brusquely.   
Dany felt the wave of pain afresh, “Thank you.” she said, a little wobbly. “I never thanked you for the service you did going North of the wall, Ser Sandor.”  
“Aye, but the Stark boy did.”  
“Stark boy,” Dany repeated softly “I didn’t believe him.” her eyes searched the skies for Drogon. Come and take me away from this pain, she thought. “I wish I had... then Viserion would still be here.”  
“I saw him.” Ser Sandor coughed, “The Night King. Looks like a right old cunt.”  
Daenerys laughed once.  
“Stark’s,” the man almost barked, “They’re men of their word. And women.”  
Dany sighed. “Do you think we can win this war, Ser?”  
Sandor Clegane turned and regarded her. “I used to think fire was the greatest enemy there was.” Dany understood why, and listened closely. “But then I looked into the flames and found one that was worse one. And then I heard of a girl who walked out of great infernos without burning alive.”  
Daenerys swallowed hard. Yes, she felt something inside say, The dragons blood is in you.   
“I supposed if anyone can stop a King made of ice, it would be a Queen of fire and dragons.” Ser Gregor's voice had grown soft, and so unexpectedly admiring that Dany turned back to him meaningfully. She drew close and took his large, gloved hands.   
“You have my protection always.” she told him. “I owe you great a debt for saving the life of my knight, Ser Jorah.”  
Behind her swooped a dragon, and she somehow knew by the lightness of foot and the swiftness of his tale that it was Rhaegal. She turned back to Ser Sandor. “People will fear for me, please would you tell them I mean to fly myself to Kings Landing?”  
The large knight nodded, and bowed slightly, but he was eyeing Rhaegal and his hand was on his sword. Dany scrambled up the lithe dragons neck, and when she was ready Rhaegal jumped into the sky, more speedy than Drogon but not anywhere near his size. She clung on hard, and wondered about Jon down below her, hoping the chaos of her leaving would not effect him too much. But there was a sense of freedom, escaping the closeness of that boat, and the feelings that came along with Jon Snow. In the thin, freezing air above the clouds she could still clearly hear his voice say, How about my queen.


	4. Eastwatch to Kings Landing 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon discovers more about Dany on the way to negotiate peace.

“Seven Hells,” Jon threw the furs off of himself, and dressed as quickly as he could. It was ridiculous to lay in a bed somewhere when he felt fine, and that somewhere on the boat the queen might still be worried about him. He could still feel her hand, small and soft, slipping into his.   
In the hall he noticed a rushing around of Unsullied, and some of the bloodriders, and stepped up on deck into confusion. Jorah was shouting at the Hound and Ser Davos, seeing Jon rushed to his side.   
“You couldn’t be convinced to rest?”  
“What’s happening?” Jon ignored him.  
“Well, the Queen’s gone-”  
“What?!” Jon cried, and throwing his fur cloak over his shoulders he made for Ser Jorah.   
Ser Davos followed, “Most believe she took to the skies.”  
“But she’s missing!” Jon shot back at him.  
Closer, Jorah grilled the Hound. “Why would she not tell someone other than you?”  
Sandor scoffed, “The fuck should I know?”  
“Clegane, I’m warning you-” Ser Jorah started.  
“What you gonna do, old man?” Sandor laughed, and then he saw Jon. “Here come the fucking King.”  
“Do you know where Daenerys is?” Jon asked him pointedly, hoping that he was conveying what might happen if he got the same jesting back.   
Sandor spat on the ground, “She flew off, on that green one.”  
Jorah snorted, “Lies. She doesn’t ride that one.”  
“Aye, you fuck! I know, but she flew off on it all the same.”  
Jon glanced up at the skies, but there was no sound of the dragons above. Seagulls and waves only, again. “Did she say where she was going?”  
“Kings Landing,” Sandor answered, “Said you lot would try an stop her. Probably knew sneaking off was her best bet.”  
“And you are just now telling us this?” Ser Jorah kept the pressure on him, “How are we to know you haven’t disposed of her to the Lannister queen?”  
“You’ve been away a long time, Mormont.” Sandor growled. “And things have changed.”  
“If I order you locked away, would thing stay the same, I wonder for you?” Mormont threw back.   
“You’d be disobeying your queen then,” the Hound answered, “She vowed her she would protect me, in return for saving you.” Jon watched Sandor, seeing a proud sort of look on the man’s face, and then the man turned to face Jon himself, “If I had to guess, I’d say the girl was running from something.”  
Jon paused, “What?”  
Sandor scowled, “Who the fuck knows what a woman is thinking, or running from. But she’s not in any danger- not the sort you lot are worried about.”  
Seeing there was nowhere else to get with the Hound, Jon helped them search. But it was eventually decided the man spoke the truth, and that night as they harbored on Dragonstone, they heard reports of the queen being seen passing, this time riding the smaller green dragon. Jon did not even leave the ship. Picking up Varys, Theon and Tyrion they struck out to sea again and Jon stayed out as late as her could watching the sky, and listening for Drogon and Rhaegal.  
His dreams were restless, incomplete, and of Danerys. He loathed waking up because they slipped away as easily as she had. For most of the morning he stood at the bow and watched it cut into the water, wishing they could just go faster. The sun was high in the sky when Tyrion wandered up and joined him.  
“Jon Snow,” he sighed, “I truly thought I’d never see you again.”  
“Were you wishing that?” Jon asked him, only half in jest.   
Tyrion smiled, “Now that there is a living... mmm, half-living man in the hull of our ship, all I want is for the king in the North to live forever.”  
Jon breathed in deeply, and out again with relief. “Thank you for saying that.”  
“I know the queen...” Tyrion paused, “-no doubt, the queen is not without regret.” Jon glanced at him. “She has been betrayed, very pointedly, in her past and I have cautioned her to be careful now. Perhaps this is my own fault... We did not believe you when we should have. Now, Viserion is lost.”  
“That was my fault, you’re not to blame for any of this.” Jon said sadly, “If I wasn’t such a fool, running off to impress her. Even up there-” he scowled, remembering. “when she landed I ...I should have just ran for him, I should have tried to take the Night King out when I could.”  
“And risk him turning you?” Tyrion remarked, slipping his hands inside the pockets of his waistcoat. “Tell me, do you think you would be able to help her as a dead man?”  
Jon mused over that. I am a dead man, to all intents and purposes...  
“The Queen would be broken, should our young Northern King fall.” Varys slipped up onto the deck. “You must now keep yourself as safe as we urge Daenerys. The more I see of you, son of Ned Stark, the more I realized that the Realm needs you both.”  
Tyrion shifted from one foot to the other, and did not offer any words but Ser Jorah Mormont, present through the whole exchange though unobserved suddenly surprised them. He was sitting near at hand, upon a pile of ropes, polishing his long curved blades and he suddenly spoke.   
“The Queen,” he did not look at any of them, “I have seen her as a helpless little thing, hurt by her selfish brother, and thrown to a ruthless warlord. I’ve watched her walk into the funeral pyre of her beloved, only to walk out again with dragons in her arms. She’s been beaten down, and she’s rose again, only to be beaten down, and to rise once more. She should be dead...so many times over...” Jon nearly shivered. “But something wants her here. Now. And nothing any of us can do will effect that.”  
Varys shifted, to look at him. “Despite all odds, eh Ser Jorah?”  
Jorah eyed him carefully, “I’ve proven myself to her. Have you?”  
Varys turned away. “She knows I have the realms best interests at heart.”  
“Will she be safe in Kings Landing?” Jon broke in suddenly. “Or are we bringing her to a death trap?”  
Tyrion glanced up at Jon, “My brother gave me his word. And she is flying in there with Drogon. Ser Jorah is prepared to lay down his life for her at any moment, and I have heard rumors that you yourself are a swordsman. She should be quite safe, actually.”  
Ser Davos came with news of Jon’s meal served in the cabin, and a bath of hot sea-water and so Jon followed him down into the room below. Jon asked about ravens from Winterfell, but there were no new tidings. Ser Davos subtly turned the conversation back to the queen, and why she might have chosen to fly to the city.  
“She touched me,” Jon began.  
“Well, ye have been with a girl, haven’t ye?” Davos laughed, “It usually involves some touching.”  
Jon sighed, “She touched be but then she pulled away. And then she ran... Why do you suppose she did that?”  
“Oh who knows with women.” Davos replied. “Scared of their own cunts, half of them.” Davos eyed Jon, “Sorry for that.”  
“Well, what do I do if she runs again?” Jon felt like a child somehow, in these areas.  
“You’re a wolf, aren’t ye?” Davos eyes twinkled, “chase her.”  
Jon felt some stirring in his blood at that. “She told me she cannot have children.”  
“Hmm,” Davos answered. “I recall the Lord Tyrion saying something of a sort to be, similarly. But I said to that, she ain’t been with naught but warlords and sell-swords. Tis the duty of a King to put an heir into a Queen.”  
“You didn’t.” Jon nearly laughed, but the thought of even just bedding Daenerys was so heavy in his mind that mention of producing a life with her was overwhelming. Only a day ago she’d been so close he could feel warmth coming off her body, could smell her again, the beautiful sun-filled scent.  
Every moment he used to think had been a waste on the island, had turned out to be precious because she was in them. The hellish journey that had seen him more north than he’d ever hope to go again, had weighed hard on him. In the cold nights, holed up at the rock waiting, Jon would close his eyes and remember her face in the council room, her eyes when she told him good-bye. I’ve grown used to him...even those words haunted Jon. He’d never considered Dragonstone home-like until then, and he’d never thought he would miss the sea.   
Jon wondered over and over again if there was more to her rescue than Ser Jorah or the proof they needed for Cersei, if perhaps it was for him. On one hand he wished it were not, so that he wouldn’t feel such responsibility for Viserion, but on the other, he longed for it and believed it to be truth. And maybe she had ran off, away from him and everyone. But before that, just before. She’d touched him.  
“Kings Landing!” a voice echoed from above, and Jon ran up to the deck. There stretched the biggest city he’d ever seen, and drawing to the forward end of the ship, Jon stood beside Tyrion again and watched the birds circle what he suspected was the Red Keep. If it did come down to it, Jon was prepared to use his sword to protect the Queen. But he hoped beyond anything that he wouldn’t have to.


	5. After the Dragonpit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From feeling as though he ruined everything, to counseling the queen in the small council, Jon handles the changes that are rapidly taking place between Daenerys and himself.

It was all over.  
Jon walked away from the group almost as soon as Tyrion left to salvage the situation. He’d seen it going so differently, like a huge incredible moment in time. One they’d make songs over. The great truce of Kingdoms... He was such a fool. Always rushing to be the hero, the truth-teller, a man of his word. All their hard-won work was very nearly canceled out by him. His own cause, undone by stubborn loyalty. But then, it was far, far more than loyalty that made him tell Cersei he now followed Daenerys. The fragile skull of a pint-sized dragon caught his eye and he stooped to pick it up. It was Daenerys herself...  
Footfalls broke him out of his thoughts, small footfalls that bit into the gravel and rocks with power. He knew it was the queen, even before he looked up, and she slowed just a small distance from him. Jon forced himself to speak. “No one is less happy about this than I.”  
“I know.” she said around a sigh, and something intuitive in him believed her. “I respect what you said...” she offered. “Wish you hadn’t of said it, but I respect it.”  
Jon fidgeted. At this point she should have been doing much more than just respecting the motivations behind a bad move. He’d planned to have her admiration, perhaps more, by now. Instead he felt embarrassed and defeated and everything he wished he was not. But when she reached for the tiny jawbone in his hands he passed it to her at once, and eagerly allowed himself the distraction of her face.  
“This place,” her eyes scattered around the ruins, “was the beginning of the end, for my family.” She spoke next in a tongue that he did not know, but it did something strange to him. And immediately. Almost as an afterthought she explained, “A dragon is not a slave.”  
She looked at him before walking away, and Jon was still running her voice through his head in those words which he guessed were high Valyrian. His body was responding far quicker to it than his mind. Woe to the man who tried to make her a slave, he thought to himself, even if I did once imagine making a slave of her in my bed. He watched her. More than once...  
“They were terrifying, extraordinary.” she moved and he followed. “They filled people with wonder, and awe, and we locked them in here.” She walked herself into a small doorway in the crumbling stone walls but Jon chose to pause, and study her. “They wasted away,” she looked down at the jaw bone, “they grew small. And we grew small as well. We weren’t extraordinary anymore, we were just like everyone else.” She lifted the skull up, to give back to him, with that same sadness that she carried.  
Jon felt a pang of feeling for her, not for the first time. He understood why she was sorrowful now he knew her better, believing she was the last of her kind, and wandering alone. A terrible thing, Maester Aemon had said. A Targeryen alone. But he knew how it felt to feel outside of it all, as well. He took the skull back, and made a point of touching her fingers when he did so.  
“You’re not like everyone else.” he said to her. Despite the council pacing nearby, he stepped down into the alcove with her, closer than he normally dared to go. “And your family hasn’t seen it’s end.” he explored her whole form just a bit.“You’re still here.” If anyone in this world was extraordinary it was her.  
Dany looked tired when she said. “I can’t have children.”  
“Who told you that,” Jon frowned.  
“The witch who murdered my husband,” she almost whispered.  
He felt a flare of hideous anger towards that particular foe in her life. Her damage was far-reaching and devastating, robbing a young girl of a future before she even knew what it was. Jon stared at her face. “Has it occurred to you that she might not have been a reliable source of information?”  
The queen smiled gently, and Jon felt the obviousness of his remarks as soon as they’d been said. He had basically just spoken of his desire to prove the witch wrong, but Dany was gracious enough to move on. “You were right from the beginning,” she told him, “If I’d trusted you, everything would be different.”  
Jon nodded, slowly. “What now?”  
He wished he hadn’t asked it, because she looked floored by the question. She answered with her own worries about leaving the country exposed, but Jon had been speaking more about himself, about how trusting him would change things. Mostly, he wondered if she felt the change between them, the one that had happened in the ships cabin days before. Even though everything was going to shit around them, Jon would take the next chance to remind her.  
“It appears Tyrion’s assessment was correct,” he answered and when she looked puzzled, he explained, “We’re fucked.”  
He knew Dany wasn’t the type of highborn lady that would be offended by a curse, but her small sweet laugh was a surprise that hit him in waves. Jon had to fight the strongest urge he had yet, to push her back against the wall, kiss her at last, and touch her in places he’d only been able to stare at. Then she would understand how much she could trust him. But there were other things going on, and other people in view, so when he returned her smile, he tried to keep the longing out of his eyes.  
The sound of someone approaching stopped him, and when he saw that Tyrion had returned, they moved together, back to the council meeting pavilion. They‘d just come to a stop on the platform when they saw that Cersei and all her entourage were returning as well. Jon moved closer to Daenerys, his hand easing over Longclaw slowly. Beside Cersei was her brother, and her curious looking Maester. No one looked as though they were poised to attack but if something were to happen here and now, with the treacherous woman and her inhuman looking guard, Jon would defend his own little queen until his last breath.  
“My armies will not stand down, I will not call them back to the capital.” Cersei said. Jon was compelled to move a bit in front of Dany. And then Cersei said, “I will march them north to fight alongside you in the Great War.”  
It hit Jon hard, to hear her say the words. He turned in surprise to Tyrion who offered a small smile.  
“A darkness is coming for us all,” Cersei went on, “We must face it together. And when the Great War is over, perhaps you’ll remember I chose to help, with no promises or assurances from any of you.” This time it was Dany that glanced at Tyrion, “I expect not.” Cersei added scathingly, then her voice lifted with authority, “Call our banners. All of them.”  
She looked Daenerys up and down then, one queen to another, before she stomped away with her men and company in tow. Whatever she’d meant by promises and assurances was fast fading from Jon’s thoughts, as he realized this meant they would all mobilize. Ser Davos and he would need to pack every bit of Dragonglass they managed to chip out, and then, finally he’d be going home to Winterfell again. And he wouldn’t be alone.  
The tension had lifted considerably, and the whole company started to speak at once. The Queen perhaps looked more reserved, and watched Tyrion closely. Jon was distracted by the things he had to arrange still on Dragonstone but he made damn sure he stayed beside her when they started the walk out of the Dragonpit, so that there was no chance she could somehow board a dragon and fly off again.  
“My queen,” Jon fell into step with her.  
“Your Grace.” she said for the first time, and Jon tried to hide his smile. “You look very pleased with the outcome.”  
“I am.”  
Dany walked on for a few seconds in silence. “You think Cersei Lanister will keep her word.”  
Jon glanced at her sharply, “Her brother looked like he would.”  
“Her brother does not sit on the throne.”  
Jon nodded. “Aye, it’s true. But she loves him, and not the way she should.”  
“I hear rumors she was entertaining a marriage proposal from Euron Greyjoy.” Dany said, and Jon felt instant rage at the name. “Would her bond with her brother be so strong were that to happen, I wonder?”  
Jon looked forward grimly. “Would you let me find that man and end his life?”  
She laughed just a little, and nudged her arm into his. Jon felt awash with feeling at the familiar action and more, at how they now walked together, with everyone else following behind them. “Everyone wants to protect me all the time,” Dany was saying, “If you could feel Drogon’s impulses as I do, you’d understand how safe I really am.”  
“Well. I will try to be there, in the times when Drogon is not.” Jon said. “I would help you anyway I could, but I’m best with a sword in hand.”  
“I know.” Dany glanced at him then. “I saw.”  
Jon felt something like a wallop in his stomach, remembering the mad dash to escape north of the wall. He had decided to wait and defend, so that the others had a chance to climb onto the dragon safely. With one of her dragons going down, Jon had only thought of the bad he’d done by going there. But now that the walker had proved Jon’s cause to be true, he allowed himself some grudging redemption. And Daenerys watching him kill white walkers, impressed with what she saw, made him rethink the mission itself.  
They walked on until the path to them close to the city walls, where more and more observers were around, so very soon they found themselves somewhat the subject of whispering and watching. Behind them, Ser Davos argued with Varys about who knew the streets of Kings Landing more, and it was growing rather heated. Jon asked Daenerys if it was hard to pass the Capital, and not go inside.  
She frowned slightly. “I never knew a city in Westeros would allow so many to go hungry. I see I was naive to think it was so very different from Essos. But, this is the land of my brother, and my ancestors before me and, we are not the same as those who bore us.”  
“No. We are not,” Jon told her meaningfully. He never would forget when he’d heard his own words hit him in the face that day in the throne room, when he first saw her.  
“My people are suffering. We can change it, Jon.” she breathed, “Can’t we?”  
He considered what she said, as his eyes trailed over to the faces of the people lined in ditches, looking as though they hadn’t eaten in days. Never before had he thought of them, and now, walking like a King beside her, he felt completely ashamed that he hadn’t. According to Dany’s followers, like the Dothraki, she was not a queen, she was something more, like a part-god. Without giving in to the superstition Jon decided, from the talk of her moves up the Salvers Bay, she was more than a ruler and conqueror. She was a revolutionary.  
“You could.” he answered at last. And I will be there to help you.  
“My Queen,” Ser Jorah called, and came up by her side, “I have a suggestion for you about-”  
“Jon.” Theon’s voice by his side only slightly distracted Jon. “Might I have a word?” But in truth, even though Theon spoke, Jon was only half listening to him, and otherwise trying to catch what Jorah Mormont was saying to Daenerys.  
“Later Theon, alright?” he stopped the man. There was still some rage inside Jon where Theon Greyjoy was concerned, even if he was only a shadow of the pompous, over confident man he once was. Jon was eager to intrude on the queens conversation, except once Ser Jorah was speaking to her, Missandei fell into step with her as well. Then Brienne of Tarth was at his own side.  
“Your Grace, I go at once to Winterfell,” the lady told him. Jon suddenly remembered Arya.  
“You’ve seen my younger sister?” he asked.  
Lady Brienne smiled. “Yes, Your Grace.”  
“And? Well, how is she looking? Has she only just survived? Or-”  
“She wields blades as though she were born doing so.”  
Jon broke into a smile. “Aye.”  
“One of them, made of deadly Valyrian steel,” Brienne’s strides were nearly two of Jon’s. “The other, she calls Needle.” He nearly melted with the thought. Arya still keeping the little blade he’d had crafted for her made him long to see her. “You are welcome to journey with me and Pod, if you wish to return soon.” she added, and something about the edge in her voice told Jon she was urging it.  
“Is Lady Sansa doing well in her position?” he asked of her.  
Brienne smiled again, “Like she was born doing so.”  
The thought of continuing on with Lady Brienne to Winterfell that very afternoon would have greatly appealed to the Jon who had just gotten to Dragonstone months ago, but his eyes trailed back to the queen. The last week without seeing her face at least once a day, had been so unbearable he couldn’t stand the thought of taking himself from her. He was going home, it just had to be done this way. “Get back to them Lady Brienne, and tell them I bring the one thing that can stop the Long Night.”  
She bowed once, and fell back into the company. Ser Davos was quick to fill her place, saying, “These Dothraki are like celebrities in the city.”  
Jon noted how the people watched them, roughened warriors with their long curved blades. Had he been a common boy in the crowd, he too would have been curious at the sight of them. But more were taken with the queen, and he watched several groups of them follow her, calling out with a sort of desperation. Some whispered about him even, and many women smiled at him. Overhead the dragons flew, and cries of wonder broke out through the crowd periodically. He was beginning to realize that this is what it meant to travel in the queens entourage.  
Quite a distance had spanned between them now along the way, but Jon kept his eye on her, in case Cersei were as treacherous as Dany seemed to think. Tyrion was speaking with her lowly, and at one point she looked back at Jon, with confusion. He nodded once at her. I’m here. And he watched as Ser Jorah kissed her hand and left her. Watched and then scowled.  
“That certainly bothers ye.” Ser Davos remarked.  
“Not for long,” Jon replied.  
Davos turned his way, his hands joined behind his back. “Oh there’s to be another change, is there. Do ye mind telling me about it this time?”  
“No change yet,” Jon said, nearly to himself, “But I mean to have more from her than a chance to kiss her hands.”  
“And does she know this?”  
He recalled keeping her hand trapped for seconds longer than her should have while he stared, craving her so strongly, so obviously. “I would bet she does.” he answered.  
“Then I would caution ye,” Davos surprised him. “To keep it a secret between the two of ye. The north has a short memory and the last time they had a king... well.”  
“He was distracted by matters of the heart.” Jon considered Robb for a moment, never having seen it so directly from his brother’s side before. “But Ser Davos, there stands a queen, and here stands a king.” Davos conceded and with a very understanding smile.  
At this point Daenerys and her adviser had waited for Jon and Ser Davos to catch up with them, and when they were close enough to speak, Dany said, “I’ve half a mind to have you smuggle me into the city, Ser Davos, as you’ve done so often with other cargo.”  
“My prices raise, Your Grace,” the Onion Knight smiled at her, “with the value of the cargo. Not even the Lannisters would want the sort a debt it would take to get you inside the most dangerous place in the world for ye.”  
Jon felt himself smile, and he looked down at the road so avoid being seen. What a smooth romancer Ser Davos had probably been, in his day. Daenerys resumed walking, and now they were clear of the city walls, some of their followers trailed away. She turned to Jon abruptly, and said. “The pair of you lied to me. I’ve not forgotten.”  
Jon threw a glance at Davos. “Lied?”  
“Your chest,” she went on, and Jon suddenly felt panicked. “I saw it. And every scar... every scar Jon, is one that should have killed you.”  
Jon struggled with an answer. But as the road rounded down towards the bay, alongside theirs, another Targaryen ship was docked. A reaction came from both Dany and Missandei, and suddenly what was said, was once again forgotten.  
“Go to him,” Jon heard Dany say to the little scribe, both smiling broadly. Then she turned to him, “Forgive me, I see the captain of the Unsullied has arrived and I mean to speak to him.” Daenerys turned to go, and then turned back. “I’d like you to tell me the truth one day.”  
Jon loathed to see her leave, knowing that they might not have the chance to be alone again for the rest of the day. But he wasn’t sure what to tell her about his scars. It was far too large a subject to discuss along the busy road through Kings Landing.  
Ser Davos again walked up beside him and mentioned. “She’s rather sharper than I might have been able to handle in my day. Come te think of it. Might be hard to chase a Dragon, even for a wolf.”  
“Maybe I am a dragon myself.” Jon joked, “My mother might have been a Targeryen for all I know”  
Davos chuckled. “Maybe I am too.”  
But by the time they’d reached the shore, Daenerys had left on Drogon to fly to the island alone. Jon was furious, but Ser Jorah defended himself as keeping her safe. The journey back was rife with tension, and Jon was the main contributor, even if the Knight had gifted him with Longclaw. Everyone seemed to want to keep them apart now, where before they were constantly forced together. Tyrion had great speeches of warning about being too publicly attached to each other, Jorah speculated that she might be the target of some of Jon’s enemies, and this new one, Greyworm they were calling him, stared at Jon as though he knew everything there was to know about Jon. Unsettling of course, because he knew nothing about the Unsullied’s commander. Varys was the only one, it seemed, that wasn’t at all upset with his declaring to serve Daenerys, and what that meant was a mystery.  
On returning to Dragonstone, Jon craved the chance to wander around and think, and be away from everyone’s opinions on what he should do. Splitting from the company, he took a longer way back, to think over how he would conduct himself. He’d declared for her, but it wasn’t like he’d declared love for her. Not to all of them anyways, and yet there was something in the way Cersei Lannister looked at the two of them that made him nervous. And then there was the Greyjoy lunatic, who could take Daenerys just to see what the world would do. Perhaps hiding how he felt was the right idea.  
But there was a test for every decision and his would come in mere moments. After a time, he found himself in a private stable yard that seemed abandoned at first, until he glimpsed the queen herself, alone and tending to a white mare. A gray girl on a dying horse, suddenly the Red Woman’s words came back to him. Is this the girl she meant? Jon felt all his breath drop out of him at the sight, and he nearly left her that way, so pretty were the two together.  
Daenerys glanced up at him, as he approached. “You were not with the return party.” she said, “I almost thought you took the Kings Road home.”  
Jon smiled. He could feel her abrasion, and understood. She didn’t want him to leave again. That was alright. He never would. “You make good time when you take to the skies,” he remarked. “Makes me almost jealous.”  
“It wasn’t my decision this time,” Dany said, oats and such on her gloved hand, “Ser Jorah is always very concerned with my safety.”  
Jon nodded, and said nothing, feeling intense annoyance with Ser Jorah. Safety of person had nothing to do with making her fly everywhere, it had to do with proximity to himself.  
“I have a question for you.” she said.  
“Alright.”  
“If the Great War was not upon us, if we were not faced with the Night King and his armies...Would you still have declared for-”  
“Yes.” Jon said, at once.  
Daenerys was all eyes, wide and vibrant. “Even though Cersei has the capital? And the North probably hates me?”  
“Cersei won’t have the capital long.” Jon told her, confidently. If they eliminated the Northern threat, Jon felt he could cut through the Lannisters like butter. Strangely, he’d never been so motivated to win the crown for Dany, now that the attention was where it needed to be. “And I will be in the North with you.”  
Dany softened just a bit. She looked like she might have wanted to ask him something else, but instead she turned away, and took to brushing the silver horse again.  
“She’s lovely.” he commented.  
“Thank you. She’s been through a lot with me,” the queen was lost in revere. “but our journey is not over yet.”  
Jon cringed slightly, “Our Northern roads are rough. Perhaps a sturdier beast would-”  
“She was a gift.” Daenerys turned to him, her eyes particularly violet in this lighting and ever so slightly angry. “I would not part with her for the world.”  
Jon would have answered, but she stared with such a mixture of defiance and secrecy that he was unwilling to fight. He would not be able to fight this girl much longer, on any subject. Maybe it came with noticing the small things about her face, like the stubborn setting of her jaw when she disagreed with something, the perpetual worry in her beautiful eyes, or the way a smile could suddenly light her up entirely, and nearly knock him over. But now he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hide how he felt about her, even if it was a good strategy politically.  
“You’re staring, Jon Snow.” she told him, after a long moment had passed.  
Jon abruptly looked away from her, wondering at himself for being so daft. “Aye,” he nearly laughed. “it’s hard not too.”  
Dany’s head dipped slightly, and her eyes flicked all around the stable, before returning to his. It took that long for him to realize she was reacting shyly to him. Jon immediately wondered if he’d been too bold but then she smiled slowly. Of all things he wasn’t expecting her to smile. Chastise him maybe... But then her cheeks pinked, and suddenly his feet were moving. He stepped in so quickly, in fact, that her mare shied away just a bit, but it wasn’t until her was an inch from her, looked down into her great, big eyes, that Jon stopped. They were so close that they shared air between them but he forced himself to hold there.  
He ached for more.When his brow touched hers, her lovely eyes closed, and Gods know had they stayed so even a second longer he would have kissed her. And if he did finally kiss her, it would only be a matter of time before he was tumbling her in the hay. That was not how he planned for the first encounter to go, not with this one. But how heavily she breathed now, and how her chest moved, and how her eyes yearned. Well, those things ought also to be considered, Jon thought just before he pressed closer, nose to nose. And just as he felt the surface peaks and valleys of her lips against his own, he heard a distant call.  
This time he closed his eyes, and allowed himself just a breath more, before stepping back. Missandei had been the one calling, and discovered them there, feet apart. Whether she knew what had gone on only a second before, was unclear, but Daenerys was flushed and breathless, and it made Jon mad with want for her. His whole body was mad with want for her. He could only wonder if her own body was reacting the same.  
“The small council has assembled,” Missandei told them, “We only await the King and Queen.”  
Daenerys met his eyes, and half smiled. “We shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer I suppose.”  
Jon tilted his head slightly, “Waiting is not the worst of things.”  
“Hmm.” Dany nodded and replied, “Time to contemplate things.”  
Missandei was confused, and tried not to be forceful while she ushered them out of the little stable, but Jon understood Dany’s words were for him. What have I to contemplate, little queen. Jon thought, even if I have to wait forever, at least I already know. Every step she took back up to the castle doors, Jon stared at her and felt the passion build instead of dissipate. Every glance back at him, her white curls swirling around her waist, he felt a new wave of it. The seven take me...he followed her like it was what he was born to do, I’m falling in love...  
The small council was arguing when they arrived and Jon stood by Ser Davos, thinking to be an observer mostly. But instead, they turned to him. Not just for the military advice, but for all manner of things. What sort of weapons are we to tell the Southern armies to use? Where was the Night King likely to strike first? Who out there was most in danger of attack Who needed to be brought into the fold? And most pressing, how were they to mobilize the vast armies to get to Winterfell  
“Well,” Jon began, making use of the table-map, “If we have the Dothraki ride hard on the Kings Road, they’ll arrive at Winterfell within a fortnight.”  
“And the Unsullied?” Dany asked him. Greyworm had moved close to her by now.  
“We can sail with them to White Harbor, meet the Dothraki here on the Kings Road,” Jon pointed, “then ride together to Winterfell.” There would be many times on that journey when they would be alone again.  
Ser Jorah broke in then, “Perhaps you should fly to Winterfell, Your Grace.” Jon felt utter panic flooding into him, but the man went on, “You have many enemies in the north. Thousands fell fighting your father... all it takes in one angry man with a crossbow. He’ll see your silver hair on the Kings Road and think one well placed bolt will make him a hero. The man who killed the Conqueror.”  
Daenerys thought his words over, but Jon had no desire to let them take root. “It’s your decision, Your Grace.” He hoped Ser Jorah took that into account. “But... if we’re going to be allies in the war, it’s important for the Northerners to see us as allies. If we sail to White Harbor together, I think it sends a better message.”  
Dany thought for a few moments, then she turned to Ser Jorah again, and told him. “I’ve not come to conquer the north, I’m coming to save it.” Jon felt his chest build with fierce pride for her, and when she faced him, he knew he was smiling. “We sail together.” she said, and though it was unspoken he felt she was saying, We wait no longer.  
Though Ser Jorah looked irked, and the rest of the council seemed to know exactly what was going on, Daenerys looked quite pleased with herself. A few moments passed before she returned from being lost in thought and said, “Well? Let us prepare to go North!”  
.


End file.
